


There Are Many Reasons Why

by countrygirlsfun



Series: Stiles is a Badass [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek is a Good Alpha, Derek is an Ass, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Sick Stiles, Sniper Stiles, Stiles Has Secrets, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countrygirlsfun/pseuds/countrygirlsfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the day they can deal with hunters, bronchitis, and rival packs but they'll be fine as long as they have each other. </p>
<p>They do have each other, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles Figures It Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation in the world of Stiles being a Badass.
> 
> Everyone's alive.  
> Everyone's pack.  
> Derek isn't monosyllabic.  
> He is a bit insensitive.
> 
>  
> 
> Now with ALL the chapters! And in the right order! It's amazing!

Stiles hadn't been this sick for a really long time. He had a fever, a stuffed up nose, a sore throat, a sore _everything_ and coughing fits like you wouldn't believe. This was no ordinary cold but he showed up to the pack meeting anyway; not like they could get sick too. They were all standing around the loft getting ready to leave to take care of the latest supernatural creature to show up in Beacon Hills. Everybody made their way towards to door but Derek was hesitant to hand Stiles his stuff to let him leave. Stiles rolled his eyes and waved his hands at Derek's worried expression.

"I'll be fine. You need me."

Derek wasn't so sure. He could hear in Stiles' chest how every breath was a challenge but really they did need him for this plan to work. So off they went to face the newest creature: a centaur. The wolves had already gone up against it once. It ended in injuries and retreat. The only chance they had was if Stiles caught him unawares with the ketamine darts Deaton and Stiles had created.

They trudged off to the woods where they knew the creature would be waiting. The pace the wolves kept was too much for Stiles newly compromised lung capacity. He was wheezing enough that their silent approach was threatened. Derek stopped short right in front of him so when Stiles inevitably ran into his back he picked him up and carried him in a piggy back towards where they knew the creature to be. Stiles huffed a small thanks in his ear. They got to a point where Stiles would be close enough to tranquilize the centaur. Really they didn't want to kill it but he had lost his mind. Regarded as wise, peaceful but fierce creatures this centaur had lost all reason and kept attacking people in the preserve. It was on the brink of starvation and had become noticeably ill in the week they'd been observing it. So here they were in their second attempt to put the creature out of its misery.

Stiles climbed up into a tree to take his shots. As he peered through his spotter he saw the animal asleep in the clearing ahead of the group. He passed the spotter back to Scott to have the rifle passed up to him. The pack left him then and went to surround the centaur in order to keep it contained until the sedative worked enough that they could challenge it.

Stiles took his shot.

The stab woke the creature. The second one enraged him. It was going to take around a minute and a half for it to go into full effect. The animal thrashed around in the clearing. It sensed each werewolf and tried to go after each before it changed its mind to go after a different one.

Stiles stayed in his perch. He'd done his part and had promised Derek he would stay above the fighting and out of harm’s way at least a little.

But not shortly after he took the shots the awkward position, on his stomach wrapped around the tree branch, proved to be too much. He couldn't get a breath in. He sat up and tried not to panic. He coughed once but still couldn't catch his breath. He tried holding on to the other coughs, knowing they'd make him a target but he made it about a minute into their time window before he was coughing and wheezing uncontrollably.

Somewhere between coughs he tried to say 'Derek' but he didn't know if he got it out let alone if he was heard. He got so light headed from the coughing he tumbled from the tree to the ground. He managed to land without hurting himself but the coughing continued.

 

He didn't know that the ketamine had worked faster than he thought and that the pack was already working on burying the creature since they'd been successful in ending its life. He couldn't get air in and his panic was rising. He half wished he would just pass out; but alas, he didn't. He kept coughing without pause and soon he felt the bile rising in his throat. He really couldn't believe he was coughing so hard he was throwing up while his pack killed a centaur less than 100 yards away.

His life. Seriously.

He collapsed on the forest floor as far away from the vomit as possible. (Which was really only like a foot and a half in the opposite direction) Finally the fingers of darkness were gripping at the edge of his mind. He relished in the idea of passing out but when he heard Derek's concerned "Stiles!" roar in his ear he made an effort to hold onto consciousness. He was still a little fuzzy as he felt himself get handled into Derek’s lap. He must have just melted into his chest because the last thing he remembered was Derek running his hand up and down his back before he whispered, "It's okay, you're okay. I got you."

 

Stiles woke up on the couch in the Hale house.

 

He turned his head but he ended up with a face full of curls.

"Uh, Isaac?"

Isaac snorted awake and whipped around to face Stiles with wide eyes.

"I wasn't asleep if Derek asks."

Stiles eyed him suspiciously.

"Why does it madder?"

Having a stuffed up nose really makes words difficult.

"Because I was supposed to watch you while he was gone..." Isaac mumbled.  
"Oh. Where'd he go?"

Isaac just gave him the you-really-think-he-told-me-that look.

"Yeah, yeah I know." Stiles croaked as he laid back down.

He was in that half-asleep half-awake mode when he vaguely registered Derek coming in the front door with his arms full. Ten minutes later he was being shaken fully awake.

"You think you can stay awake enough to shower?"

Stiles took in the fact that he was still in the clothes from the woods all covered in mud and leaves and sweat.

"Yeah, I can manage that," he said with a nod. Derek helped him up and sent him towards the nearest shower.

Stiles shuffled into the bathroom and peeled off his layers of clothing. He ended up spending the whole first 10 minutes just standing under the hot water feeling his muscles relax, his sinuses loosen, and it was soo much easier to breath in the humid air.

Then he got his act together and scrubbed away at the mud and sweat. When he got out he found a pile of clean clothes - Derek's clothes. He toweled off and put on the boxer briefs, and wow they're blue, not black, the sweats and the t-shirt Derek had left him. He was headed back to the couch but was intercepted.

"No, no. Not the couch."  
"What do ya mean? It’s the couch it’s where you stay when you're sick."

Derek led Stiles up the stairs towards his own bedroom.

"I think this will be better."

Stiles shot him a curious look that melted into something closer to dumbfounded when he walked into the room.

Derek's bed had been taken over by a ridiculous amount of pillows, Stiles sick blanket (how did he know that?!), a humidifier, and a tray with what looked like cough drops, tea, and tissues. He padded over to it making grabby hands as Derek chuckled. Then Stiles eye caught sight of something resting on top of his pillow it was -

"YOU KNOW ABOUT LAMBY?"

Derek outright laughed at that from behind him. Stiles turned and planted a kiss right on Derek's smile.

"Good thing I can't get sick."

"How did you- where did this-" then Stiles remembered something. "You remember that conversation- not a conversation a monologue you were, you were unconscious! On Deaton’s table! Everybody was gone and Deaton said somebody needed to talk to you to give you something to focus on as you woke up. You- you sneak!"

Derek just smiled because there wasn't near as much heat behind the rant as Stiles wanted. He was still in the 'talk too much cough out a lung' phase. Stiles turned back to the bed and crawled in letting the pillows surround him as he curled up with his blanket and the stuffed lamb from his childhood. He sighed in contentment.

"This is so much better than being sick at home alone."

Derek watched as Stiles eye lids started drooping as he got settled in the bed and heard his heart slow as sleep pulled on him. Stiles didn't even try to fight it.

"Thanks, Der-"

Derek just kissed his forehead and left him to sleep for a while.

Stiles woke up gradually from his nap. The first thing he realized was that Derek really must have heard the _entire_ rant about how his mother took care of him while he was sick. Right down to sitting in a chair next to his bed reading and holding his hand.

Because, well, that’s what Derek was doing. He was reading _The Count of Monte Christo_ with one hand, the other tangled with Stiles own. The next thing he realized was that somehow he’d managed to get his shirt off in his feverish sleep. He groaned. Derek turned with a concerned look.

“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing, just- its not fair- I just shouldn’t be the only one shirtless in a house full of such well-defined werewolves.”

Derek turned back to his book with a smirk and a small, “I like the way you are.”

“Yeah, man. You’ve really got some definition now.”

Stiles looked over to the door and was met with one of those nothing-in-the-world-is-bad smiles coming from Scott.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?”  
“Fine, dude. After that last coughing attack though, you freaked me- well us- out. I talked to my mom. She scored you some pretty sick cough syrup to help. Also, if it gets worse she says you need to go in. Might be bronchitis, dude.”  
“Great, hand over the syrup before I start coughing again.”

Scott passed him the bottle but it was too late. Stiles coughed and coughed until he was gasping for breath. Derek helped him sit up to try and make it easier to breathe but he continued to cough. Another minute and Derek and Scott locked eyes as they heard a faint cracking noise. They looked to Stiles who had ceased coughing long enough to swallow some of the medicine. He made a pained face.

“Is what just happened what I think just happened?”

Derek nodded sadly, “Yeah, you just cracked a rib.”

“Great.”

 

Two hours later they were back from the hospital with meds and pain killers. Stiles was just settling in again when Isaac walked in.

Stiles peered into the bowl as Isaac handed it to him. A pleased hum passed through him.

"This is from Jill's isn't it?"

Isaac nodded sheepishly. “Its your favorite, right?”

Stiles groaned, “Yes!”

Huh, so Isaac new his favorite soup when he was sick, too bad he missed the-- Stiles train of thought was cut short as Erica walked in with a bowl of what looked like—

"Homemade popcorn. Seriously though? In your soup?"

Stiles nodded in glee and grabbed for the bowl.

"Don't knock it till you try it. The soup coats your throat and the popcorn is rough enough to scratch at the itchiness."

"Whatever you say Stilinski," Erica mocked, but there wasn't any real heat behind it.

The betas left and it was only Derek and Stiles again. Stiles ate his soup and then took some pain killers before he fell asleep again.

When he woke up Boyd and Jackson were setting up the Xbox and the TV from Isaacs room, at the end of Derek’s bed. Once he was fully awake he drank some water, swallowed some cough syrup and popped a cough drop in his mouth.

“I may not be able to trash talk you but I can still kick your asses.”

He doesn’t. It’s not even because of the occasional cough. He is blaming this entirely on the cough medicine or one of the medicines he’d taken because he is _drowsy._ Soon its time for supper and the game is paused. Derek makes Stiles homemade chicken noodle soup.

Stiles exits the pillow cocoon to let it cool off a little. He may not be a wolf but his feverish body heat was making things downright ridiculous. When he gets downstairs, everybody is there; which he kind of expected really.

He takes his seat at the table with a blanket draped over his shoulders. Derek puts his soup in front of him. After he finishes his meal, everybody is just visiting while they finish their own. Allison clears his dishes away at which point Lydia swoops over with a cup of tea with cookies on the saucer. He looks up at the girls and smiles.

“Thanks guys.”

“Don’t thank us just yet.” Allison warns. “Dip the cookies in the tea. They’re a bit…crunchy.”

Stiles chuckles and just lets the cookie _sit_ in the tea.

Its as he is half carried back to bed Stiles starts to ruminate on his day. It’s been a long time since he’d actively been taken care of while he was sick. It was a job for family. Not that his dad wasn’t family that’s not what he’s thinking. The sheriff just couldn’t call in sick for days on end when his son got a cold. So Stiles would be left home alone with the phone, a box of Kleenex and a bottle of water.

But here, and now, he had a _family._ People who care, people he cares about. He had Derek to thank for that he realizes as the man lays him in his own bed for the night. It is possibly the best thing anyone has ever done for him.

Stiles just lets himself be handled into the bed. Derek takes half the pillows away and crawls in with him. As he lays in Derek’s arms feeling his pain being leeched away he can’t help but smile.

_Oh man do I love this guy._

Stiles couldn’t remember being happier, ever. Even his dad had noticed he smiled and impossibly, _talked_ more. Derek had opened up more and more about his family lately. Derek made him feel safe and at home, no matter where they were. Derek made him feel helpful. Roll that all into a ball and you have what Stiles loves about Derek. The man who uses what he has, to give Stiles so much more than he realizes.

A home, a family, safety, purpose.

Because that’s what Stiles needs. He needs a purpose, needs to be able to help. He’d been helpless enough in his life with so many things, he wasn’t going to ever go back to feeling like that. He couldn’t help but want to tell Derek just how much this all meant to him. Even if he wanted to take that step and say it out loud, right that moment, he was falling asleep.

Damn pain meds.

So he didn’t say it, even when he woke up. He didn’t say it because he didn’t know how Derek would react. The last person Derek had maybe loved had hurt him so badly…Stiles knew he wasn’t Kate but he was hesitant nonetheless. Stiles didn’t say it when Derek took care of him when he was sick. He didn’t say it when Derek took a bullet for _Allison._ And he didn’t say it when Derek told him about his mother and his family even more. He didn’t say it.

And really he didn’t say it because he wasn’t _certain_ that Derek loved him back. He knew Derek trusted him and he knew he cared about him but he just wasn’t sure about the “L” word. What gave him the most unease was the whole _touching_ thing. Stiles knew werewolves were very tactile beings; they craved the feeling. The pack was constantly touching each other and Stiles was always included in that. And they always felt withdrawals when one of the group wasn’t around as much or went out of town.

But with Derek, it just felt like he was always only doing the bare minimum. He’d let Stiles cuddle him while they watched movies and would always hug him and nuzzle into his neck when he smelt just a little too much like pack and not enough like Derek. And the most they’d ever done was make out. Granted they did that a lot and sometimes Derek would stay over and sleep (on his half of the bed) but he was always gone in the morning. Stiles thought maybe Derek didn’t want to freak him out.

But honestly, Stiles was a hugger.

He loved the physical interactions almost as much as the werewolves did. So it probably wasn’t that. Stiles knew that Kate had hurt him, cut him so deeply and then Jennifer ripped open any healing that had happened when Derek shut himself off to the world. Stiles knew that Derek probably did it out of instinct now; don’t let anybody close, it’ll hurt less when they leave.

Except Stiles wasn’t going to leave.

He didn’t know when he made that decision or how he knew. But with Derek, it was nothing like what Stiles had felt towards Lydia or even Scott’s friendship.

What he had with Derek was so much _more_ ; like it was a part of his very being to love Derek Hale.

But Stiles didn’t say it.

 

 


	2. Derek Figures It Out

 

Most of the pack was out of town that weekend. They’d made a trip up state to check out a couple different colleges. The only two that hadn’t gone were Allison and Scott and they had plans at the beach for the whole weekend.   So that left Stiles and Derek to go out and patrol across the preserve.

They’d noticed that there might be a new hunter out there and they were going to see if they could find their base. Stiles had come prepared with his handgun and rifle. It was maybe a bit excessive but Derek had all but strapped the second gun to his leg before they left. Things were going fine. Stiles was running behind Derek for a while before Derek suggested they split up and meet in 10 minutes where the trail meets. Either one doesn’t show up, the other starts to look immediately.

Stiles was at the meeting spot 8 minutes later.

He waited another 3 before he took off towards where Derek would have been.

Meanwhile, Derek was in a bit of a tight spot. He was just waiting for what was going to happen next. And then a shot rang out through the forest.

“Enough.”

Stiles had shot the weapon that had been aimed for Derek’s head out of the hunter’s hands. Derek was tied to a tree and a quick survey of his condition laid out all Stiles needed to know. It had only been 30 minutes since they’d been separated while patrolling.

Apparently that was all the time it took for this hunter to get so far. He’d made quick work of ripping Derek apart. He was restrained with wolfs bane ropes, he was dripping with…was that liquid wolfs bane? The purple liquid dripped steadily into the gashes that littered Derek’s chest and arms. Stiles had to stifle gagging when he saw Derek’s leg broken in two places.

After the shot, the hunter faced Stiles, drawing his handgun when he turned.

“What the hell is this?”

“This would be me stopping you from killing a werewolf for no good reason.”

“No good reason?” The hunter roared. “How about just being a monster and a werewolf? That’s reason enough!”

“So because you were born a prejudiced asshole means I could torture you and kill you? Sounds reason enough to me?”

As he spoke Stiles had raised his aim to the hunters face and took a step towards the man to prove his point. The hunter got the message and raised his hands.

“So, now what?” The man gritted out.

“Now, you holster that gun, turn around and go back the way you came. If not, I’ll have you charged with aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. And against the Sheriff’s son no less. I’d also probably throw in possession of illegal weapons too. That Taser? And the modified flares? Not standard issue there friend.”

Clearly beaten, the hunter put his gun away grumbling and muttering.

“…fucking slime. Shouldn’t even…”

Another shot rang through the quiet forest and the hunter jerked at his shoulder and fell to the ground.

“No, Stiles!” Derek thought the man was dead. He couldn’t believe Stiles killed him. Not even for him.

But Stiles just calmly walked over to where the man laid sprawled out on his back chest heaving. He towered over the man with his own handgun drawn this time. He stood with his feet on either side of the hunter’s chest looking straight down into his face. The hunter was terrified now.

“Guess what? This one,” Stiles waved the handgun, “has the real bullets, not rubber.” Derek sighed in relief behind him. “Next time you attack an innocent werewolf in this territory you won’t be leaving alive. I suggest a change in line of work, at the very least a change in perspective because from where I stand, the only _monster_ in this clearing is you.”

“Stiles..."

This time it was groggy and broken coming from Derek's mouth. Without breaking eye contact standing over the hunter Stiles eyes glinted in anger.

"Did you drug him? Is it lethal? What's the antidote?"

The hunter shuddered under Stiles glare and venomous voice.

"No! I mean yes he's drugged but it won't kill him it'll wear off in 5 hours, maybe 6 after he passes out."

The guy had no reason to lie; at this point Stiles had made it clear he would kill him for his actions and was granting mercy this time around. Stiles stepped away and let the hunter stand.

“I’d leave now if I were you.”

The hunter stared at Stiles as he backed away, fear etched in his face. The man turned and fled back towards wherever his car was. Stiles watched him until he disappeared into the forest before he finally turned to Derek, who was barely conscious. Stiles walked up and flitted his hands across Derek's injuries; letting them settle on either side of Derek's face in an attempt to comfort both himself and Derek.

"Hey, big guy. I got you."

Derek nodded and closed his eyes again. The drug was making him so drowsy. Stiles was working to get him untied. He positioned his shoulders so that Derek was centered across them. He used his left arm and wrapped it around Derek's right leg. As he cut the ropes with his right hand Derek fell across his shoulders and back he gripped Derek’s right arm and pulled it in front of his chest. Effectively he had Derek's body wrapped around his neck in a one man casualty carry that Booth had taught him.

"Derek, until you pass out I need you to hold on to me, it'll make this a little easier."

For the first 10 minutes of the walk back Derek gripped Stiles hip with his free hand to help keep him in place. After that the drug was in full effect and Derek faded into the painless darkness of unconsciousness.

When Derek woke up he was definitely not in the forest anymore. As he eased his eyes open he found himself in his own bed, in clean sweats and a T-shirt and....completely healed. He looked to his nightstand to grab his phone and found a note on top in Stiles neat printing.

'The gashes have healed. I don't know about your leg, yet. -S'

Derek appreciated these notes; Stiles warnings about his healing progress. Standing on a still healing broken leg was not how he wanted to start this morning. He stretched and moved his leg and didn't feel even a twinge. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and put a little bit of pressure on his left foot. Still no pain. He stood slowly but it appeared that his leg was fine. He took that knowledge and ran with it, well walked, to the kitchen. Healing and expelling wolfs bane from his system left him half-starved every time. He padded out of his room and went downstairs to the kitchen. A barrage of smells filled his senses: fruit, sugar, cold, chocolate, peanut butter, Stiles. He walked into the kitchen and was met with the three things he wanted most in that moment. A chocolate-peanut butter protein shake, a strawberry-mango smoothie, and a big glass of ice water. Derek sighed.

_This is why I love you._

Derek didn't have time to ruminate on that thought because new smells were registering: Stiles, dirt, sweat, _blood_ -

He rushed to the couch where Stiles had collapsed sprawled out face down. He was covered in dirt and dried sweat and blood.

His own?

Derek's?

Derek took half a second to really take in the scent of Stiles.

_Worried, tired, sore, and weary_.

He couldn't smell any pain or the specific smell of Stiles' blood. It must all be Derek's blood then. He calmed down went back to his drinks and drank the protein shake.

This wasn't the first time Stiles had done something like this. What Stiles really wanted to do when Derek got hurt was hover around Derek and make sure he was ok and fix his wounds and in general be in Derek's face until he was sure Derek was ok. Which, to be fair, was what Derek wanted to do when Stiles got hurt too. But almost instantly Stiles had adjusted from what he wanted for Derek to what Derek wanted or needed while he healed.

So Stiles changed to a more hands off approach. He'd clean and stitch Derek's wounds when needed and then leave him alone while they healed. Most times he would leave completely and only come back when Derek would text him. But sometimes he'd stay a little longer and make Derek his shake and a smoothie for whenever he was ready.

Stiles had actually suggested the shakes because it took less effort to mix and drink down a shake than it did to cook and eat a burger or something with enough protein to help the wolves recover completely. Unsurprisingly, Stiles was right.

After the shake was gone and he’d drank half his water, Derek turned his attention back to Stiles before he fell back asleep himself. Stiles was dead to the world, so deeply asleep that even as Derek used his dwindling strength to take the dirty clothes off, wash the residual dirt and blood off and put a clean shirt back on him he never even flinched. Derek carried him into his room and put him on the bed next to the wall.

After making sure he was still asleep Derek returned to the kitchen to drink some more water and eat the smoothie. It was his favorite. He must have looked pretty bad if Stiles not only made his shake and his favorite smoothie but also stayed, waiting for him to wake up.

Derek sighed and finished off the smoothie. By this point he was tired all over again. He crawled into the bed next to Stiles and fell asleep listening to the steady heartbeat next to him.

 

Stiles woke up a few hours later his face snuggled into a pillow. He shifted and realized he wasn't on the couch anymore he was in a bed. He smelled the pillow.

_Oh god. I'm in Derek's bed. Crap._

He rolled onto his side to find Derek looking at him. Stiles panicked; they had an unspoken agreement that Stiles didn't crowd Derek while he healed. Being in Derek's bed? Probably not good.

"I'm sorry! I- I remember making your shakes about the time you were supposed to wake up from the drugs and then I heard you get up and I laid down on the couch and then-"

"Stiles." Derek cut him off. "It's fine. I woke up and found your note and then you asleep on the couch." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled softly. "Figured the bed was more comfortable." Stiles visibly relaxed at that.

It had taken a lot of effort on his part to leave Derek after he'd washed the liquid wolfs bane from his skin and hair and cleaned out the worst of the cuts and stitched what needed it. He had dressed Derek, put him in the bed and set his left leg before he was able to rip himself away. He'd spent the hours Derek laid passed out pacing, attempting to read, bouncing in his seat as he stared at the TV. After 5 1/2 hours he shut the TV off and listened to hear if Derek had woken up. When he heard the bed creaking he whipped up the drinks and let himself crash on the couch.

Derek watched Stiles relax but only to a point; he could smell panic on him still buried underneath a whole bunch of worry. He winced.

"It was pretty bad wasn't it?"

Stiles ducked his head and just nodded. Derek turned to his side and put his arms out.

"Come here."

Stiles balked. This was breaking all sorts of Derek personal space and touching rules.

"You sure?"

"Stiles, just come here."

Derek pulled Stiles into him and Stiles nuzzled his face into Derek's chest and wrapped his arms around him. Breathing in Derek's smell and reveling in the feel of Derek being whole and healed and holding him. With Stiles in his arms Derek let himself go back to his thought.

_I love this kid._

And it wasn't because of the things he did. It was but it wasn't. It was the way Stiles was there for him and worried about him and so obviously cared about him. When he needed him to be there and when Derek just wanted him to be. Derek breathed in through his nose smelling deeply of the peace and contentment and Stiles.

Derek loved the lanky kid who had the guts to want him back. Stiles had quickly fallen back asleep in Derek’s arms before Derek could even think about uttering the words.

But was he even ready to say it?

He hadn’t truly loved Kate and look how that depth of feeling was used against him. He knew deep down Stiles wouldn’t ever do that to him, ever. But the hesitancy was still there.

So Derek didn’t tell Stiles he loved him later that day when they woke up to the pack coming home. He didn’t say it a couple months later when Stiles figured out how to make his mother’s oatmeal chocolate chip cake on his birthday. And he didn’t say it when Stiles ran right at Isaac having a panic attack during training and hugged and soothed the terrified werewolf until he began breathing normal again.

Derek didn’t say it.


	3. Life Goes On

It had just been a shitty week to begin with.

Scott was being pissy. Even Allison was fed up with him. Isaac had had a panic attack when Erica had dragged him into her changing room while she shopped. Just a whole bunch of little shit that was wearing on Derek.

But worst of all was the fight with Stiles and possibility that he fucked things up completely. Derek didn't know how to apologize and worst of all he didn't really think Stiles should forgive him for how he'd acted.

They'd gotten better at talking, well, Derek got better at talking. And Derek felt like he was starting to understand Stiles better too. Sometimes in ways that even Scott doesn't.

The fight had started as a result of a buildup of petty things that were more of an annoyance than anything else.

The trigger?

Stiles had done the dishes when Derek had told him to leave them alone. They snapped back and forth in front of the pack before they took it upstairs to Derek's room. The pack just kind of cowered in the living room below; Derek's room was out of ear shot and soundproofed for the benefit of everyone involved.

In the room Derek stood with his arms crossed and brow furrowed while Stiles paced closer to the door. They were mad from all the other things but by this point Derek was near furious when they got to this part of the fight. While Derek wasn’t really one to be overly affectionate yet, he was under the impression that Stiles knew why. Knew that he was still working through the mess of issues Kate left him with. So when it felt like Stiles was keeping secrets in this area of their life together it had festered. Like most things kept bottled up, you let them burst out in terrible ways.

"—you've said you're a virgin and there's never been a lie there so why does it feel like you're still keeping secrets? Why can't you just tell me?" Derek badgered. "I don't get it Stiles why won't you just tell me. Embarrassing or not. I mean it's not like anybody hurt you; you're the sheriff’s kid. Nobody around here would be stupid enough to do that and I just-"

Stiles was beyond anger, had moved on to resigned and was making his way towards hurt when he interrupted.

"Cause no one ever passes through Beacon Hills; like I don't know, to help the local hunters with the werewolf and _kanima_ population."

Derek's mouth snapped shut. He couldn't decide if he was angry that he was right and there was a secret or worried about what could possibly come next.

"What. Are you saying--?"

Stiles was pacing, words biting out with indignation and raw _fear_.

"Am I saying that maybe just maybe while you all dealt with Jackson dying and resurrecting, that Gerard kidnapped me and drug me to the Argent's house? Or that after he beat the shit out of me he left me on the basement floor with Boyd and Erica?

And maybe, just maybe one of his men had come down and _tied_ me down and explained in vivid, horrifying, _violent_ detail all that he was going to do to me and have me do to him?

Or that if Chris Argent hadn't come down the stairs and stopped him I would have…he would have…"

He shuddered at the memory and from the look on Derek’s face he knew he got it, he didn’t have to say it out loud.

"Because yeah that's what I'm saying."

Derek was horrified and it was all over his face.

"Stiles…"

Stiles somehow forced himself to continue.

"And maybe, just maybe I was hesitant to tell you because I didn't want to see that look on your face. I was going to tell you because I haven't told anybody and you'd be the person who needed to know. Because I want- god I want to with you but all you had to do was _ask_. Instead I got asshole alpha Derek yelling in my face about it."

Stiles sighed and Derek well Derek was still in shock but he reached out and took a step forward to try and fix this huge fuck up he'd made.

"No, no don't apologize. Not right now I just- I need to go and you need to have a pack meeting and-"

Stiles steeled himself and wiped his face because somewhere in there he’d started crying.

"You didn't owe it to me to be a good boyfriend, or even a good alpha. You owed it to me to be a good friend and not push something like this."

Derek froze.

"We're still us…if you'll have me, but I need tonight- I need to be alone tonight but we can talk about this tomorrow."

With that he walked out of the room, leaving Derek to collapse on his bed desperately searching for a way to fix this clusterfuck he'd managed to create.

 

Stiles walked down the stairs and right past the pack to his jeep. Everybody watched him walk out the front door but he hadn't acknowledged they were even in the room. The pack night soon broke up as no one wanted to sit in the awkward silence that followed.

 

Scott left to check on Stiles but found a note on his bedroom window.

"I'm going to the lake. Don't worry. I will be home by midnight and will text you when I get back. If I don't, then you may worry."

 

After the pack had left Derek had decided to go for a run. Better to spend the built up energy and anger in a run than against Stiles any more. He should have known better than to go out alone with a new pack around but he needed this. Barely two miles into his run, he felt a dart in his shoulder. He stopped and whirled around trying to find the source. He pulled it out of his arm and threw it to the ground just as a stocky alpha walked up to him. His vision was swimming when the other werewolf stood in front of him.

"Derek Hale I presume."

Then he hit the forest floor.

 

He woke up slowly. He was tied with his arms around a pole. His feet were tied together at the ankles. At least he was sitting. He tried to shift so he could claw at the ropes but then he saw the battery wired into his side and stopped. He was in a small room with no light and no windows.

He sat in the darkness not knowing how much time was passing or if his pack knew what was happening. After a while he knew it had been days that had passed.

Every once in a while a frightened human boy would feed him a sandwich and give him some water.

More frequently, a beta would come in and tear at Derek. Unable to protect himself and unable to heal quickly he had no choice but to take the torture in silence. Every other time after the attack ceased he noticed a flash of the camera on his phone.

Derek couldn't decide what was worse or which he'd prefer: psychological torture or being left alone to his thoughts.

Right now he was wishing someone would talk to him, even if they were lying or manipulating him it would distract him from the pain of knitting himself back together.

What haunted him though was Stiles and the fight.

Derek hadn't had the chance to apologize. He also hadn't been able to reconvene the pack meeting which had been called to announce the presence of a new pack on the border of their territory.

Now Derek had hurt Stiles, possibly irrevocably, disappeared, was being held prisoner and Stiles and the pack had no idea.

So yeah, this week could go fuck itself.

*

The week had started out so good. Well, it was decent. Ok so it was shitty.

Derek was spending so much time dealing with the pack and they'd been bickering about little crap and pushing the petty stuff down instead of laughing it off. Things finally blew up in their faces on Saturday over something as stupid as the dishes.

Fucking dishes.

The fight had grown and shifted and changed topics so much between the kitchen and the bedroom that it got to the point that Derek was yelling. Derek had yelled until Stiles finally broke down and told the truth about the Gerard incident.

For as much as he felt attacked in the conversation and was going to blame Derek for being an ass that didn't mean he wasn't going to forgive him.

Stiles had left the house because he needed to get away from the fight. Away from that look on Derek's face.

He was pissed because Derek had been an insensitive fucker that whole night.

This wasn't how he'd envisioned telling Derek he was a little more broken than he knew already.

He decided a quick trip to the lake would help. So he left Scott (who undoubtedly would come check on him) a note and took off. Stiles got to the lake quickly. He had had the wherewithal to pack a backpack just in case. He not only had his assault rifle and targets but he had a store of mountain ash and his wolfs bane bullets in a magazine in the side pocket for easy access.

Just in case right?

He set up his loop and was maybe an hour in when he heard someone approach the other side of the lake.

Shitty week intensifies.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening line is a quote from the Mel Gibson movie 'Maverick.' It's great. Go watch it.


	4. This is just great.

_Scott wouldn't come here. Neither would Derek._

Stiles began calculating the odds that the werewolf now standing in his path was friend or foe. A little voice in his head, which happened to sound like Derek was urgently agreeing: foe. 

So before Stiles made it past the next target he cycled in the wolfs bane bullets for his weapon. He stopped shooting targets and worked his way silently behind the werewolf. He kept the rifle pointed at the wolf’s chest.

"Who are you?"

The werewolf turned to face him, red alpha eyes glowing in the dark forest. He was shorter than Stiles but he was built like a tank. He was thick straight from his chest to his waist; and through his thighs to the wide stance of his feet. He was cocky and comfortable with his position in the standoff.

Stiles, by this point, was used to being underestimated so that’s what he assumed was happening here. Before he’d turned around Stiles had seen a tattoo on the back of his neck, and as he turned he saw a similar one on his arm. He catalogued the information away somewhere in his brain for research later.

"The real question is who are you? You smell like pack, like your Alpha more. But you're not a werewolf."  
"Good guess." Stiles snarked.

They stared at each other; the alpha with his claws out and Stiles unwavering hold on the rifle. The alpha huffed at the silence. 

"Not even going to ask me who I am again? Or why I'm here?"  
"I was just waiting for the inevitable villain monologue to start. But sure, I'll _bite_ , who are you? What do you want?"  
"What my name is, is unimportant. All you need to know is Derek Hale will not be the alpha of this territory for very much longer. And I'm giving _you_ the...opportunity to join me."  
"Or?"  
"How do you know there's an or?"

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"There's always an or."  
" _Or_ I kill you. You have a week."  
“Same goes for the pack, I assume.”  
“Ah, and you know where assuming gets people.”

With that the alpha strode away, disappearing into the woods. When Stiles was sure he was gone, out of earshot at the very least, he called Derek's phone. 

_You've reached Derek. Leave your message._

Next he called Scott and started running home, leaving his targets where they sat. 

"Scott?"  
"Dude are you ok? That was-"  
"I'm fine. But we've got a problem. Is anybody still at Derek's?"  
"No, I think we all left after you did. Derek never came down from his room to start the meeting."  
"Try calling him. Now."

Stiles hung up and picked up his pace. A few minutes passed before his phone rang again with Scott’s call.

"He didn't answer. What's going on?"  
"Scott I think he's been taken.”  
"Taken? By who? Where are you?"  
"I’m running Scott. I'll be to my house in 5 minutes. Meet me there. Get everyone there."

 

By the time Stiles walked in his back door the whole pack was standing tense in the living room. He laid the gun and his phone on the table in the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. Hoping by the time he’d finished drinking it he could breathe again and explain what was happening. The pack let his heart rate come down to a normal level before they were all paying very close attention to Stiles, knowing he would explain. As they filed into the kitchen Stiles tried to gather his thoughts. He couldn’t decide how to read into the alpha’s words.

“We have a problem. There’s a pack going through town, well, in town. Their alpha approached me, threatening me, specifically. Warning me that “Derek Hale wouldn’t be the alpha here any longer.” It was one of those “join me or die” speeches and he gave me a week. I don’t know what he wants with the pack, if anything. Have any of you been approached by anyone?”

Everyone shook their heads no. Nobody had approached them, yet.

"Ok, good. But that means that someone will probably approach you at some point. I think we should start-"   
  
Just then his phone lit up next to his hand. He stopped short when he saw Derek's name. He grabbed his phone and opened the message.

All he saw was a picture.

A picture of Derek tied up, beaten and bloody and visibly wired with electricity.

When Stiles stopped breathing Scott reached out and took the phone from his grasp. Stiles gripped the back of the chair in front of him ducking his head to his chest, deciding if he was going to succumb to the rising panic or push it down and get pissed off. At the growls coming from the pack as they saw the picture he chose pissed off. 

_Nobody does this to the man I love_.

  
"Plan, new plan rather than the one I was about to say. Old plan was find Derek and let the pack live. New plan find Derek and kill the bastards where they stand."

The betas where slightly shocked at the rage pouring out of him and the cold, hard tone they had never heard come from Stiles. And Stiles was clearly going to be in control of this problem; not one beta was willing to challenge that, not even Scott.

"Nobody go out alone. Allison and Lydia are still vacationing at the beach right Scott?"  
"Yeah they are."  
"Perfect then even if they catch their scent on us it will only lead them to empty houses. You guys will stay in pairs. You're less likely to be approached if there's two of you than if you're alone. I'm guessing they've set up a base in a warehouse somewhere."

Erica interrupted, "How do you know that?" 

"The fact that they're new to town and abandoned warehouses are easy places to squat without being noticed and well, where else would they be?"

They couldn't really argue. If past experiences were anything to go by, the new pack was probably holed up in a warehouse across town.

"Nobody go looking either. Not yet, I'm going to try and track Derek's cell phone since the alpha obviously still has it."  
Scott asked, "What can we do?"  
"Keep each other safe. Don't try and track Derek's scent; at least not tonight. I have a feeling they are smart enough to use the scent to lead you to a trap."

With that the pack left with an uneasy feeling. Scott stayed and followed Stiles up to his room. Stiles went immediately for his computer and started trying to trace the phone. Scott stood in the doorway. 

As much as Scott was oblivious to when Stiles started having feelings for Derek, even he could see what was happening between them now. He didn’t need werewolf senses either to know how much it meant to Stiles.

"You know, I’ve never heard you talk like that, get all hard and protective for anybody but your dad and maybe me. Are you and Derek that serious?"

Stiles stopped typing and breathed a couple deep breaths. 

"Yeah...yeah and like an idiot I never told him."  
"Hey, you're still gonna get to tell him. We _will_ find him." 

Stiles nodded and turned back to his trace.

“Ok, now I don’t know if that alpha is just stupid or planning a trap.”  
“Why?”  
“Derek’s phone is still on and it says he’s in a warehouse next to the old train depot.”  
“So what do we do next?”  
“In the morning we check it out. See if there is anybody going in or out.”  
“How do you want to stake it out?”

Stiles smiled, “Like Booth taught me.”

 

The next morning Scott was outside waiting when Stiles was ready. Sometimes he has the best friend ever. 

“Dude you reek.”  
“Had to mask my scent somehow.”

Stiles just shakes his head and they head out. They know where the building is so he’s wary of what kind of defenses they’ll have set up. They make it to a warehouse just down the street and Stiles gets set up. Scott pulls out the snacks he’d packed anticipating a day long stake out. Stiles just looks over ands smiles at his best friend. But they do stay there all day watching. They see a guy with a Mohawk keeping watch. Then a guy with so many muscles Ennis would be jealous comes out and leaves. Its nearing 5 o’clock when he comes back hauling Erica into the warehouse. By her _hair._ Scott’s half shifted already and Stiles is practically growling himself. He takes her inside and Scott texts the rest of the pack. He gets responses from all but Erica.

Then Stiles phone goes off.

It read: _Maybe you should get off the roof and protect your pack._

But then there were two pictures attached. One was of Erica. Tied to a chair unconscious but unharmed. The second though. Derek looked rough. All they could see with the bad lighting was he was tied up still. It looked like the electricity had been reduced enough that he could heal those first injuries.

So a pattern emerged. Isaac was taken next.

Stiles would get two pictures. One of the betas. One of Derek.

Each time the betas looked unconscious but otherwise unharmed.

But Derek.

It was like every time was worse than the last. He was covered in blood and grime. His shirt was in tatters.

Every time the remaining pack members would have to change their strategy all while trying to figure out how the others were being taken.

That part wasn’t that hard. They were stubborn and thought they could take care of themselves and went out without a buddy. Seriously the buddy system was not that hard.

And yet here it was over a week after Derek had been taken and it was down to Scott and Stiles.

“Stiles I have to go check on my mom.”

Stiles nodded, giving him permission to leave almost.

“Hey Scott? Be careful man.”

Scott nodded and left. Naturally he was taken once he was alone. When Stiles got the text with the picture of Scott with the others in the warehouse he didn’t panic. He called Derek’s phone, all the pictures always came from Derek’s phone. It rang twice before someone answered.

 

“So what now? What do you want from me?”  
“Meet me at the lake in two hours.”

 


	5. Shit Goes Down

Here he stood at the lake. He knew it was a trap _or something_ but he had to do something, _anything_. He’d gotten there but instead of finding the alpha he found two of the betas.

“Where are they?” Stiles practically growled.

Even at gunpoint these two still weren’t acting threatened which means…Yup someone’s behind him. He ducks just enough that the blow meant to knock him unconscious merely knocks him to the ground. As he falls flicks the gun from semi to fully automatic.

He’d promised Derek he wouldn’t do that ever.

But you know, Derek’s still in the warehouse with the bastards who set this up so we’re going to conveniently not care for the next ten minutes. He falls to the ground and goes limp. The three betas chuckle.

Mohawk is the first to comment. “Moron. Puny human should know better than to challenge us.”

New Guy bent down to take the gun from the holster on his thigh and his phone from his pocket. He backed off, then Stiles heard the click of the camera shutter on his phone. When he heard the werewolves gather around the phone he moved. He sent a spray of the non-lethal bullets into the three werewolves. They all ended up on the forest floor. Stiles walked over to New Guy to get his handgun and his phone back. Before the guy swiped at him and clawed his thigh. He backed off and deleted the message with the picture in it; they hadn’t managed to send it yet, there wasn't a signal this far out.

Being in control of the situation led Stiles to do what he does best: run his mouth.

“I’ll take these, thanks. See this one has the bullets that will kill you. So. You wanna tell me where you have my alpha and my pack?”

Muscles got up and charged him. He fired without thought, hitting the wolf square in the thigh causing him to tumble head over heels landing at Stiles feet. Stiles doesn’t take too well to name calling when he's livid already.

“Who’s the _moron_ now, bitch? I’m gonna say it again, _that_ bullet will kill you. You tell me where Derek is, I might tell you how to live. You really want to die at the hands of the _puny_ human of the pack or live to fight the wolves?”

This time Mohawk tried to rush him. He raised the weapon aiming for the guys forehead before he spoke to New Guy,

“See now I’m guessing that these two here were bitten and you Mr. Shoulders were born a werewolf; they act like newbies. Now if I’m right, which let’s face it I normally am, why don’t you explain to your guys the implications of killing the human pack member?”

Shoulders grits out, “Our pack will be hunted down by his and any other pack with human members.”

“See now I don’t think you want to live like that, I mean life on the run is cool in the movies and all but damn, werewolves need stability, they need a pack. So what’s life gonna be like where you constantly have to watch your back. Although, you might not _get_ to live like that. You guys don’t seem all that great at being werewolves, and my pack? Well, you should know our reputation. You wouldn’t last long against them.”

By this time Mohawk had pulled Muscles away from Stiles and Shoulders is standing with them.

“Was that really the plan? Force me to join you or I die? Wow, your alpha fails on originality. Anyway, unless you tell me where you’re holding my family I’m just going to pick at random who gets shot next. Might be you again. I don’t really care. And really my patience is all but spent.”  
“He’s still in the warehouse on the very edge of town, the one next to the train depot. Now tell me how I live.”

Stiles grinned manically.

“Oh yeah about that, you’ll figure it out.”  
“What?! Hey! Come back here!”

But Stiles was already turned away. He flicked a little glass jar over his shoulder that smashed right in front of the wolves. He laughed to himself as he pictured how the powder would billow out and heard the wolves falling back, passed out.

Then a new thought struck him. He turned around and snapped a picture of the wolves on the ground.

As he walked away again he checked his pocket. All his wolfs bane bullets were accounted for. The most those wolves would deal with in the morning would be a pounding headache and a bruised ego.

Now he had to find Derek and fast. He ran fueled by adrenalin and the gratitude of Coach making them run cross country in the off season. He checked his phone again, still no signal yet. After another few minutes of running full speed he slowed to a jog and checked again.

_Sweet baby Jesus a signal._

He dialed his dad and got his voicemail.

“Dad, just a heads up, this one might not end well. I love you.”

Stiles was closer than he thought; 7 minutes later he was running up to the warehouse that had black smoke pouring out two of the windows. He pulled his assault rifle up and flicked it back to manual. He entered the building and followed the sound of the alpha’s voice. As he stalked through the empty half he noticed a small teenage boy at the door to the other side of the warehouse supposedly keeping watch. He looked freaked out. Stiles snuck up behind him and knocked him unconscious. After dragging his small figure away from the door he continued. They’d moved Derek into the open. He saw Derek tied with his hands above his head; the shorter alpha in front of him.

Stiles ducked around the corner again and sent the picture of the wolves to Derek’s phone. He peeked his head around the door to watch the reaction. When the alpha saw the picture he turned to Derek eyes flashing with rage.

Stiles approached now, firing, all while hearing Booth’s teachings play through his mind.

A shot in the arm _to make him notice_.

The alpha turned from Derek to come after Stiles.

A shot in the shoulder _to hurt_.  
A shot to the leg _to slow him down_.  
The shin _to stumble_.  
The chest _to fall_.

 

 _Now you stop Stiles. He's not a threat anymore._ Booths voice was small in the back of his mind.

 

He was standing over the alpha now when he heard Derek.

Derek lifted his head wheezed out, “Stiles.”

Stiles continued to aim for the alpha but looked to Derek.

“Stop. You can stop. You don’t have to.”

 

Stiles couldn’t decide what he wanted. The anger burned within him still but Derek would be ok. Derek wanted him to stop. The betas were in fact tied up in the middle of the warehouse; unharmed but tied up nonetheless. They all stared at Stiles slack jawed; _still_ unaccustomed to seeing Stiles work like this.

Stiles kicked the alpha’s shoulder so he rolled over and had to look at Stiles. He squatted down in a baseball catchers position, rifle across his knees.

“Hi again, valiant effort, dear alpha.”

The alpha growled at Stiles. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“It would take more than three highly untrained and frankly dispassionate betas to take me down I’m afraid.”

Stiles’ calmness and nonchalance terrified the alpha, not to mention the smile that held no humor, but seemed to show his lethal thoughts. Which in all fairness, this was the closest Stiles had ever come to _wanting_ to kill someone; you’d have to forgive him for making it plain on his features. Stiles stood and put another round in his abdomen. His stillness combined with his cold voice was enough to freak the pack out and it was starting to work on the fallen alpha.

“You’re going to confirm why you’re here. I mean I know the pain’s making it hard to think. But just think, the faster you talk the less I want to end you.”

The alpha spat blood out of his mouth before he answered.

“We came because the Hale territory is coveted and we wanted it. We saw a pack of teenagers and knew- _thought_ it would be easy to take it _and_ its human.”

Stiles laughed.

Scott was worried.  
Derek would be concerned if he was fully coherent .

“Yeah I bet you thought it would be easy. Good job. I’d like to congratulate you on having your ass handed to you by a pack of teenagers and a human no less. Now my alpha has decided you live so you know what that means? That means that we leave you here. You heal from all, hmm six shots. You’ll find your pack where you left them to kill me. They’ll wake up in oh six hours. Then, good sir, you will leave Hale territory with your tails between your legs and make sure you tell all your friends how the pack of lowly teenagers and the pack human managed to bring you down. On second thought, just tell them that if they want to _die_ come try and take the Hale territory. That might be less embarrassing. Sound like a good plan?”

The alpha grunted in pain. “Yes.”

“I thought so I make the best plans. Oh I should mention, if you don’t leave on these terms, what happens to him Scott?”  
“We kill you.”  
“Oh yeah I forgot! Silly me. You know I think he finally understands, Scott. See his eyes? You must have heard his heart beat. So, was he lying?”  
"No."

The alpha was appropriately terrorized but Stiles' ability to bullshit was dwindling and panic was rising. He pulled a second glass jar out of his pocket and smashed it right by the alpha’s face. Once the powder faded and the alpha was passed out Stiles left him in favor of freeing his pack. After making sure everyone was unharmed he set to giving orders again.

“Erica, you and Boyd drag his ass to his betas. Isaac the human out there that’s unconscious in the shadows needs to be taken with as well. Scott, help me get Derek to my house.”  
“Wouldn’t Deaton’s –“  
“Scott.”

Scott didn’t question him again. He just walked over to Derek and as Stiles cut the wolfs bane rope, Scott caught him; threw one of Derek’s arms over his shoulder. He used one hand to keep it there and the other was wrapped around his waist to half carry him along.

“Stiles.” Derek was still wheezing when he spoke. “Stiles don’t send the kid back with them.”

Stiles had had an idea the kid was being coerced into being with them given his terror, Derek's comment was enough to confirm it.

”Isaac! Come back.”

Isaac walked back in with the kid in his arms.

“Call in the warehouse fire and when my dad shows up you can make sure he finds the kid.”

Isaac put the boy back on the floor and pulled out his phone to call in the fire. Stiles had his phone out and texted his dad.

_We're all safe. Patching up Derek at the house._

Scott looked dumbfounded but just continued to help Stiles get Derek into the Jeep and Stiles drove them all back to his house.

 


	6. Gotta Take Care of Derek

Scott helped Stiles get Derek out of the Jeep and into the house. With some careful maneuvering Scott managed to even get Derek up the steps and into the tub before he said anything.

"Are you ok Stiles?"

Stiles was flitting around the room, gathering supplies to help Derek. But both the wolves could see his hands shake slightly and his heart beat was all over the place. In true Stiles fashion he shrugs it off to deal with later.

"I'm fine, or will be fine. I'll text you later or tomorrow. Are you ok?"

Scott was wary of leaving just yet. Not that he wanted to be the third wheel (he really didn't) but that was the most worked up Scott had seen Stiles get.

"I'm fine they didn't hurt us like they did with Derek. They even fed us more. You sure you don't want help?"  
"No, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Scott had lost this battle. He shot Derek a worried look before he left the bathroom. Derek was in the tub on his side now. Stiles was still rummaging in the cupboard pulling out the first aid kit and then the supernatural version too.

Derek didn't want to ask. He did but he didn't know if he wanted to hear the answer. Stiles had been on the line between Derek anger and Peter crazy, hell, he played jump rope with the line.

Derek had been able to see through Stiles façade almost since they met. Where Derek stayed closed off and broody (as Stiles would say), Stiles is overly emotive. He smiles wide and tells bad jokes and covers it all up the best he can. What Derek hadn't known was just how much Stiles covers up with the façade.

"I can hear you staring at me and I know what you're thinking."

Stiles spoke while moving everything he'd gathered towards the tub. Derek would have shrugged if he could.

"You probably do."

Stiles looked up from what he was doing.

"You're thinking that that whole ordeal had me at Peter levels of crazy."  
"You were…exceptionally intimidating." _To put it mildly._

Stiles hung his head as he knelt by the edge of the tub letting his hands still on his thighs. He took a deep breath as if bracing himself before shaking his head and speaking in a soft voice.

"Terrified, Derek. I was abso-fucking-lutely terrified the whole time. He had you and that last picture…I didn't know if you could heal from that. Then he had everybody else and I…It was like I couldn't stop once I got going and if I stopped the panic would have started and- and- I had shit to do."

Stiles shook himself to try and get back to the task at hand. But his hands were shaking as he tried to get what he needed from the kit. Derek reached out and grabbed one of Stiles hands. Stiles just dropped the kit to the floor and hung his head, completely deflated.

"I knew it was a trap...All I could think was that I wasn't running fast enough. I wouldn't get there in time...the last thing I'd said to you...the way we’d left things-"

Derek shushed him, dropped Stiles hand and patted the side of the tub.

"Sit here."

Stiles turned around and leaned back against the tub with his knees pulled up to his chest. Derek did his best to put his arm around onto Stiles chest.

"You ran fast enough, you saved us. Again. And you're going to sit there and breathe for a minute before my wounds start healing around everything that's inside of me."

Stiles closed his eyes and nodded. He took a couple deep breaths before he was calm enough to start taking care of Derek.

Derek struggled to focus while Stiles was pulling shards of glass and splinters of wood out of his back. The last beating he'd been thrown through windows and walls before being getting shocked with a cattle prod and tied up again. Stiles just kept talking though, in an attempt to hold himself together to finish taking care of Derek before he broke down himself. Derek drifted in and out of coherence. After a while Derek was pulled back to focus on his words though.

"...ashamed. Nothing like having the person you...your boyfriend...see you at your weakest. Here I thought panic attacks were my weakest moments."

Derek waited until the knife wasn't on his back when he interjected.

"What do you mean?"

As expected, Stiles flinched when his monologue was interrupted; Derek had been quiet for so long.

"Oh you, um..."  
"Stiles."

Stiles took a deep breath before he continued in a soft voice again.

"I wanted him dead, Derek. I wanted- I wanted to put a wolfs bane bullet in his chest and one in his spine. I...what kind of person does that make me? Wanting someone else dead for hurting my family?"

 

"It makes you a soldier.”

 

Both Stiles and Derek snapped their heads up to look at the sheriff standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

"This guy attacked your men, your pack, sorry, and you were their last defense. When you're in that moment you are only thinking of the best way to get them all out alive. Booth would agree with me on that."

Stiles looked down and continued working on Derek's back when he responded.

"It was his voice in my head telling me to stop, though."

The sheriff continued, "I don't know about Derek but the fact that you wanted him dead and didn't kill him is a sign of strength not weakness. Weakness would have been allowing yourself to kill the alpha instead of finding a different way out when you _knew_ there was a different way out."

All Stiles could do was slowly nod as he pulled the last of the shrapnel from Derek's back.

"I have to go, I'm still on duty but I got your voicemail and your text and I wanted to check on you. I'll see you for lunch tomorrow though?"  
"Yeah dad, I'll see you tomorrow."  
"Derek."  
"Sheriff."

After mutual nods the sheriff left. Stiles was moving on to cleaning and stitching the wounds. Stiles stayed silent now; thinking about what his dad had said.

"He's right you know. What you did- didn't do- I saw your eyes. I saw how much you wanted to just end the fight right then and there. But you didn't, you pulled back and...it wasn't weak Stiles. It was just; terrifying, but just. And that is a strength that not very many people we deal with have."

After that Derek let the silence fill the room. When Stiles was done cleaning him up he went to his room to get Derek a change of clothes. When he walked in with a brand new set of clothes in Derek's size, Derek raised an eyebrow in question.

"Just being prepared. Even if we weren't dating you tend to fall through my window injured."

He didn't question it after that. Derek got changed and Stiles fetched a bottle of water and some beef jerky before returning to help Derek to the bed.

"Try and eat some of this and drink the water before you pass out."

Derek wanted to tell him now; they'd just survived. It was life affirming and he could tell him now. Derek was ready but Stiles wasn't in a place to hear it. As much as Derek wanted to just grab him and wrap him in his arms and tell him, he knew he needed to let Stiles pull himself together.

Stiles had been riding the adrenaline high and only when he put Derek in his bed did he finally feel it starting to wear off. He practically ran from the room to take care of his own injuries before he passed out himself.

Derek understood, to an extent. But after being tortured for almost a week he really wanted to just follow Stiles’ order. So he ate a dozen or so pieces of jerky and downed the bottle of water before he collapsed back on the bed. He was quickly falling into a deep, healing sleep and the last thing he heard was Stiles heart beat from the bathroom.

Stiles managed to treat his mostly superficial wounds. Mostly, he couldn't stop thinking about how close he'd come to losing Derek. He'd tried to remember what the last thing he'd said to Derek was before he was taken. He couldn't think. It terrified him that he still hadn't told him. Might not have had the chance. As his thoughts raced he finished his own stitches and then let himself succumb to the panic and exhaustion.

When Derek woke up, he was entirely surprised to find himself alone in Stiles' bed. He got up as quickly as his still aching body would allow and padded over to the bathroom. He flicked the light on but when Stiles flinched he turned it back off.

Stiles was in the tub in just his boxers. He was clean and his wounds were dressed all but the gashes on his leg. The needle and thread were still in his grasp and the cuts were loosely covered in gauze. Derek shook his head in awe. Stiles had managed to completely stitch the lacerations; he must have passed out before he could cut the thread after the last knot.

Derek snipped the thread and took the needle from Stiles hand. After putting fresh bandages over the cuts on his thigh Derek picked him up out of the tub. He carried him back to his room and put some clothes on him before he laid him on the bed and covered him up. Derek needed to go check on the pack before he was going to sleep again.

He left Stiles a note saying where Derek had gone and asking him to text Derek when he woke up, a new bottle of water and the beef jerky package from the night before on his nightstand right next to his phone.

Derek left him to sleep and recover. He needed to check on his betas, he needed to sleep more, and he needed to give Stiles some space. So he took off and found the betas all piled in Scott's living room. Just like Scott had told Stiles, they had been left alone during their imprisonment. Mainly for the fact that it made the Alpha seem kind and they'd be more likely to accept him as their own after he killed Derek. So the most they had to recover from was the stress and the exhaustion of being held prisoner. He didn't wake them up and left again.

He drove to his loft and dragged himself into the elevator, up his steps and through the door.

 

He collapsed on his own bed and didn't wake up for another day and a half.

 

He woke up starving as one might expect. He threw everything he had into a pot and made soup. He ate as much as he could but it just wasn't filling him up. He put the leftovers in a container and sat down to check his phone. He had missed texts from Scott and the rest of the pack checking in that they were fine.

 

There were no missed messages from Stiles.

 

Derek just resigned himself that Stiles was either still sleeping or just wasn't ready to talk about the fight just yet. He showered and shaved the beard that had grown in the week or so he was held captive.

 

He was still hungry and that was a problem he could solve. He threw on his leather jacket and left for the store.

 

 


	7. Perfect Timing

Stiles woke up a couple hours later. Try as he might he couldn't think straight. That's weird I don't have a concussion, I never got hit in the head. Stiles shrugged it off and walked downstairs to find his dad getting lunch ready.

"You okay, kid?" He asked without turning from the stove.

"Will be, eventually." Stiles mumbled.

The sheriff turned to face his son prepared to give a speech on how combat works but stopped when he saw Stiles' eyes. He saw Stiles leaning against the door frame with those telltale glassy eyes. John could always tell when this happened, almost better than Stiles. Mainly because Stiles just ignored the warning signs that it was coming but John could always tell when his eyes started getting that dull, clouded look to them.

"Stiles does your head hurt?"

He looked at the sympathetic look on his father's face and he almost understood.

"I think so, my eyes...?"  
"Yeah. Go back to bed. I'll bring you some food when it's done and I'll close all the shades."

Stiles nodded and shuffled back the stairs and collapsed into his bed.

He'd felt it start right after the fight with Derek before shit went down in the forest the first time.

That first tiny, but growing, pain.

So entirely manageable and easily ignored that that's exactly what he did. But by that time he had other things on his mind besides a little nagging headache.

Like, you know, saving his pack.

*

Derek was just walking to his car with his groceries when he felt his phone go off. His hopes that Stiles was ready to talk were disappointed when he saw a text from Scott flash on the screen.

Scott:   Have you heard from Stiles since the fight?  
Derek: No.  
Derek: Why?  
Scott:   I haven't either. He's not answering his phone.  
Derek: I'm going over there now.

Derek was worried now; Scott hadn't heard from Stiles either? Derek was driving faster than normal at the thought of Stiles not answering his phone because he wasn't able to. He also may have started to panic because he completely neglected to realize that the Sheriff would have been home and that Stiles would have been found by his father if indeed he was hurt again. He pulled up to the house. Stiles' jeep was alone in the driveway so Derek parked next to it.

He looked up to Stiles' window. The curtains were drawn and the window was shut. He looked some more; almost all of the windows of the house had the curtains shut. He climbed up to the window knocking his face on the glass when it didn't open.

_He locked it? Whys it locked?_

He was about to just break the glass pane before a voice in his head, which sounded a lot like Stiles, reminded him the house had doors he could use. He crawled down from the roof and ran around to the back door.

As he entered the house a scent reached his nose; stale but harsh it smelt like pain, all over the house. As he approached the stairs he heard Stiles talking, he paused to listen completely.

"…assuming it's a werewolf that just tried coming in my window and is now in my kitchen but if you can hear me you will come in this room quietly or so help me I will _end_ you…"

Derek leaped up the stairs and went to rush into the room; the closer he got the stronger the smell got. He couldn't even smell Stiles, just pain. When he opened the door he earned a groan from Stiles. Derek looked over to see him with a pillow over his face before he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Close that goddamn door and do it quietly."

Derek obeyed plunging the room into darkness and Stiles removed the pillow. Derek's eyes were able to adjust immediately. He couldn't deal with the overwhelming amount of pain he was seriously considering was rolling off of Stiles. He walked towards the bed.

"Stiles what—"  
"Oh my god whisper."

Derek just made his way to kneel next to the bed.

"Your clothes are loud."

Derek looked down, the only thing he was wearing that might make noise was his leather jacket and boots. But there was no way Stiles could hear the soft squeaks.

"Yes, I can hear your leather squeaking. If you intend on moving take them off." Stiles sighed like it had taken all his effort to just say words. "Please."

Derek obliged. He really didn't know what was happening here; Stiles had only had bruises and those cuts on his leg. Not enough to fill the house with this smell. He just knew that there was no way Stiles should be conscious if he had this much pain. After getting rid of the 'noisy clothes,' Derek found himself next to the bed so his whispers could be heard.

"What is going on?"

Stiles huffed. "Migraine." He kept an arm slung over his eyes, like the last layer of protection of letting any light in.

"You never texted me, or Scott…no light and no sound?"

Stiles nodded.

"Or motion."

Derek raised his hand to try and take some of the pain onto himself. Stiles must have heard him move because he stopped him with a grip on his wrist.

"I wouldn't. Scott tried once. He cried for 10 minutes after." He paused, collecting his energy to continue. "It seems this is just my special brand of hell and werewolves don't know how to deal with it."

Derek was disappointed at that. He wanted to help somehow. If he couldn't just pull the pain away what was he supposed to do?

"Can I do anything?"

The corner of his mouth turned up with that sad kind of smile and he took his arm off his eyes to look at Derek.

"Not really. Meds don't help all that much. I really just have to ride it out."  
"Have you eaten anything? Or slept?"  
"That would be a no to both."

Well Derek could help with that. And he was going to try and pull some pain regardless of what Stiles said. The stench of misery and pain that filled the room was more than his wolf instincts could bear. He needed to fix it. Do something.

"I'll be back in a little bit."  
"You don't have to if you don't want to. I mean its pretty boring I just have to lay here." He laid his head back down into his pillow. "This doesn't happen often but I'm used to dealing with this alone when it does."  
"Well today you don't have to."

Derek grabbed his coat and boots and made sure Stiles had the pillow over his eyes before he opened the door and went back downstairs. He texted Scott as he walked back to the kitchen.

Derek: He has a migraine.  
Scott:   Shit. Great timing.  
Scott:   Don't try and pull any of the pain. It's fucking agony.

Derek just scoffed at the second text and pulled his boots back on. But Scott was Stiles best friend. If it was bad enough even he wouldn't do it…Derek shook his head. It can't be that bad. He wouldn't have left but he had groceries in the car. He sped all the way back to the loft and put everything away.

He switched from his jacket to a hoodie and his boots for those slippers he, well, no one knows he has. He thanks whoever is listening that he had made soup earlier in the day. Grabbing the container from the fridge he made his way back to Stiles' house.

*

Stiles had thought about texting Derek when he was awake on Friday but now he had a migraine and him and Derek needed to talk. It was going to be a couple days before he was in any position to hold a reasonable conversation without wanting to pass out. There wasn't anything he could do but sit here in the dark. These stupid things didn't happen very often and this was the first one Stiles had since he and Derek started dating. Derek wasn't going to have a clue as to what was going on.

*

Stiles hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep before he was waking up to the door opening and Derek walking in holding something with both hands. He eased the door shut and put something on Stiles' desk.

"When was the last time you moved?"  
"Middle of the night. Had to pee."  
"That's it?"          
"Yup."  
"Mmk you're moving now."  
"What- why?"

But Derek had already peeled back the covers and was gently lifting Stiles into a sitting position.

"Worse, better, nauseous?"  
"Surprisingly…none of the above."

Derek took this to be permission to continue. He pulled Stiles up and walked him over to the desk chair. Stiles looked what Derek had set on his desk. He peered over the bowl.

"You made me soup." Stiles said fondly.

Derek shrugged. "I thought it would be quiet to eat."

Stiles just looked at him with gratefulness. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth Stiles turned to try eating the soup. To his surprise it was actually really good. He hummed as the soup warmed him up and hit the bottom of his empty stomach. The little noises he made while he ate made Derek smile in the darkness of the room.

As soon as he got Stiles to eat he began puttering around the room. He straightened the bed and then neatly flipped the covers back; letting the sheets cool off before Stiles needed to lay down again. He carefully opened the window without moving the curtains and propped the door open a bit with a book creating a cross breeze through the room to get the stale air out.

Really that's all he intended on doing but when he pulled Stiles out of the bed he was still wearing the clothes he'd dressed him in two days ago. So Derek began the search for clean sweatpants and a t-shirt but it really ended up being Derek picking up Stiles dirty laundry.

Up until this point he'd ignored the bags that were clustered in the open closet. But after he'd finished with the laundry he really was out of things to do before Stiles finished eating.

He walked over to examine the bags. One. Two. Three. Four…There's one for everyone. He peered in the first. There were a few plain pink t-shirts, a pair of petite grey sweatpants, pink socks, slippers and more. Lydia? The next had a package of plain white t-shirts, basketball shorts, boxers, flip flops, beef jerky and bottled water. Probably Scott. The next had the same but the shirts were grey and they were all a size bigger. Isaac. The next, again the same but bigger sizes. My size. The shirts were black and grey and there was an extra shirt at the bottom too. Since he figured this one was his, he reached into the bag.

"NO, no, no, you weren't supposed to see those…"

Derek stopped and looked at Stiles waiting for him to continue.

Stiles sighed, "It's our pack's Christmas presents."

Derek's heart swelled at that, _our_ pack.

"It's October first."  
"I had an idea and ran with it." Stiles mumbled.  
"I don't get it…"  
"After we deal with some mythical creature, inevitably our clothes are ruined, we're hurt, we're hungry, dehydrated, whatever. They're care packages. Everybody gets a box or a bag inside a big plastic toolbox that I have yet to find. And then the toolbox goes in the Camaro or my jeep or somewhere…"

Just talking seemed to take everything out of Stiles. He ran his hand down his face and kept his eyes closed as he let his chin rest on his chest. Derek reached in anyway and pulled out the extra shirt. It was a grey Henley like he wears but it was a thermal type material and was almost two sizes too big. He was holding it out in front of himself.

"Why's it so big?"

Stiles groaned raking his hands down his face again. "Because its cozier that way."

"What?"  
"Cozy. Its cozy. Comfortable. Makes you feel like you're wearing a hug. Its great, it really is and you still don't seem to…you don't…you still aren't comfortable with anybody…touching...all that often…so…I got…that instead. Aaand with that can I lay back down now?"  
"After you take these."

Derek handed him some painkillers.

"There's five pills here. That's kinda a lot."

Derek shrugged. "Two Advil and three Tylenol. Some platoon calls it a Colonel's cocktail?"

Stiles brows furrowed in confusion. _The hell? How would he know that unless—_

"Did you, did you actually research to find a way to get rid of migraines? You did, didn't you?" He paused smiling. "This probably won't help you know."  
"Well you're going to try anyway Stiles."

There was no questioning that tone of voice. Derek handed him a bottle of water and Stiles took the medicine. After that Derek had Stiles finish off the last of the soup and the water before having him change into the fresh set of clothes he'd laid out on the bed.

Meanwhile Derek changed into that over-sized Henley.

If pulling migraine pain is as bad as Scott says I'm at least going to be comfortable… Holy shit it is like being hugged.

Stiles was crawling into bed again and Derek was following him.

"What are you doing now?" He asked tiredly. Derek just eased him back on the pillows and laid the blankets across his chest.

"You're tucking me in dude. And I'm confused. Use your words. "

Stiles was relaxing back into his bed. Truth be told the food, change of clothes, fresh air and cool sheets on the bed were really making headway on the whole pain management thing. The cocktail may have even started to knock the edge off. But he'd told Derek not to try and pull any pain from him, was that what he was doing? He'd done enough to help by Stiles standards. What was he doing? Almost like he'd asked the question out loud Derek responded.

"I'm going to try pulling the pain. I don't care what Scott says or how it affected him. I- I'd like to try."

Derek crawled over Stiles and laid down next to him; both laying flat on their backs.

"I warned you."

Stiles put his hand up and Derek intertwined their fingers. Stiles heart fluttered; it always did.

They both gasped after Derek had been pulling the pain from Stiles for a minute.

Stiles gasped out of relief, the initial pull had taken the edge off the pain, he was left with the simmering throbbing instead of the intensity that had been there before.

Derek gasped as he pulled the pain into himself; he wasn't expecting what he got. This was nothing like he'd ever done before. It was like getting stabbed it was so sharp. No, it was worse than that. It was so entirely different than any pain he'd ever had to deal with before. Normally any pain he was pulling he was able to dissolve in a matter of seconds; it was like he'd pulled something into himself and then proceeded to tear it apart. It was never any more than something with in himself. But this, this was entirely the opposite. It felt like it consumed him entirely. Like his whole existence had been reduced to one small focus point and that point was simultaneously being crushed and stabbed and pulled apart. He forgot everything, all his senses were employed to feel that pain. He closed his eyes and he could faintly hear Stiles heart beat slow as relief undoubtedly washed over him; but Derek wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking about ripping the pain apart. He'd never had to give it thought before, it just happened on instinct. But with this he had to use all his strength just for his body to realize it needed to break the pain down so it could dissolve completely.

Somewhere in there he remembered hearing a quiet, "Derek. Derek you can stop. Stop, Derek its ok."

But he had stopped. At this point he was still trying to break down the piece that he'd already taken. Slower than normal, he was able to rip the pain apart, first little pieces then big ones until the sharpness was dull and he felt normal again. As his senses returned he realized tears had welled up in his eyes. He wiped them away and turned to Stiles.

His voice was rough when he said,

“Well, Scott was right on that. That sucked.”  
“Thanks, Der. You didn’t have to do that.”  
“After I was such an ass I should do more than just that.”

 

Derek didn’t want to wait to talk about this anymore. He didn’t want to let it sit and get any worse. They were both too sleepy and relaxed right now that it wouldn’t evolve into a fight anyway. He was jerk and he knew it. He didn’t want to lose Stiles because he was an idiot.

 

“Derek I think you forget sometimes that I don’t always know what you’re thinking. And I can’t smell your emotions. You started that whole topic like you were halfway through a conversation. Like you thought the first half and said the other stuff out loud.”

“I was thinking about how we were taking things slow. How it had to be because you figured the whole Kate thing. I was mad we were fighting and then I thought about Kate and got madder. I couldn’t figure out why you wouldn’t just ask. Ask to do more or ask why we weren’t in the first place. I thought I would be the one who you were trying to…I don’t know, protect? It didn’t occur to me you were protecting yourself. I didn’t think and I was wrong and I don’t know how to apologize for it.”

Stiles sighed and laid back down.

“You kind of just did. You do realize how terrible it was to assume something like that about someone, right? Especially since we deal with the kind of things we do.”  
“Yeah, I do. And I’d understand-“  
“Oh my god. No. There’s nothing for you ‘to understand.’ Derek if you haven’t caught on I’m in this, for however long you want me around. I’m not going to run away because you were insensitive while we were fighting.” 

The tension that had been building in Derek relaxed suddenly.

“Me too. I mean, I want this, you- I want this with you. And I am sorry.”

Stiles yawned.

“I know. So shut up and cuddle me. I’m tired and I think I’m finally falling asleep.”

 


	8. The Reasons

Derek woke with a start the next morning when the Sheriff slammed the kitchen door downstairs. He took a second to consider bolting out the window. But then he realized how Stiles was laying face down on his stomach with Derek’s arm around his waist. Stiles arm laid across Derek’s chest and his head was tucked into Derek’s shoulder.

He wouldn’t have moved even if _Scott_ was the one coming in the room.

As it was, the Sheriff knew that if the door was still closed and the curtains were still closed that Stiles was still dealing with a migraine and had no intention of risking waking him up. Derek was taking comfort in the feeling of Stiles arm wrapped around him when his mind drifted back to Stiles comment about the shirt and the fight and the need to tell Stiles.

_Oh god, how do I do this? How do I even start?_

As Derek felt Stiles wake up he couldn’t wait any more. He didn’t want to wait anymore. All his excuses proved useless. He could say it now and there was no doubt or hesitation anymore.

Because this was perfect. They weren’t fighting each other and nothing was actively trying to kill them, nobody was dying or hurt. It was just them. Just them together, finding comfort in each others arms.

Stiles pulled his arm off Derek’s chest and moved to roll onto his back but Derek stopped him halfway and pulled his back into his chest. He tucked their legs together and nestled his chin into Stile’s shoulder at his neck.

Stiles hummed, this was the best way to wake up. Ever. Then Derek started talking and impossibly, it got better.

 

“I love the way you care about other people; you care about the pack. I love the way when you really laugh you double over no matter what. I love the way you understand me. You challenge me; you annoy me. I love the way I annoy you. I love that we don’t let it get to us. We can laugh off the little stuff. We know what’s important. I love the way you never even asked for more when you clearly want it.”

Stiles was really awake now and he turned around in Derek’s arms to face him while he kept talking.

“I wasn’t…after Kate…She didn’t fucking break me but I wasn’t ready to risk the part of me that feels whole when we touch…I wasn’t ready to risk that getting ripped away again. But that was stupid because I love it when you tuck into my side while we watch movies. And I love the way your eyes sparkle when we kiss. I love how you keep me grounded. You with your strong arms and your impossibly fast legs, and your abs you’ve been hiding from everyone but me. I love the way you smile right before the dumbest joke comes out of that mouth. I love the way that even though I was tied down and beaten I knew you were coming. That if they’d gone after me they would have underestimated the fact that you were the bigger threat. I’m just a werewolf but you, you’re the boy who runs with wolves. Hell, the man who _leads_ wolves. And I love you. I don’t even know your real name Stiles but I love you.”

 

Stiles smiled big and wide and genuine before pulling Derek in for a kiss. A small chaste kiss before he spoke.

 

“I love it when you use your words. I love how you can pull me back from panic with a single touch. I love when you make jokes and shock the pack. I love when you smile down at me when we watch movies and your eyes are shining. I love how you let me help. I love that even when shit happens like you getting kidnapped, I know when I find you you’ll still be fighting. You’ll be trying to live. I didn’t want to say it because I didn’t want it to be some teenage infatuation. But this, I love you Derek. With everything I’ve got I love you. I didn’t want the last thing we said to each other to be a fight and those pictures…I love you Derek, and as long as you want me I’m going to be here.” 

They just looked at each other and smiled.

_I said it._

_I said it._

 

They couldn’t tell you who moved first but one second they were staring at each other and the next they were kissing. Slow and unhurried, this kiss was filled with want and desire and _love._

But then Derek pulls back and arranges them side by side on the bed keeping one arm around Stiles shoulders. Stiles makes a noise of protest. 

"Your dad." Derek whispers.

Sure enough the door creaks open a moment later.

"Stiles? Oh Derek, I _thought_ you were talking to someone. How ya feeling, kiddo?"  
"Better."  
"Yeah? You doing ok now?"  
"Yeah dad I'm fine."  
"Ok, I just got in so I'm going to bed."  
"Get some sleep dad."

The sheriff nodded and headed off to his bed.

Derek waited until his dad left before he turned to Stiles in confusion.

"Why'd you lie about being fine? Does your head still hurt?"  
"No, no I'm not fine."

Stiles smiled at his confusion and sighed.

  
"I'm perfect."

 

 Derek couldn't find it in him to argue with that.

**Author's Note:**

> There it is.  
> Despite appearances I put some effort into this.
> 
> Hope it was enjoyable; let me know what you think!


End file.
